Forward Fast
by dansunedisco
Summary: [Oneshot. Spoilers up to the Kakashi Gaiden. Hints of KakashiRin.] One year was a long time. Enough time to not notice anything had moved but still enough time to change the world.


**Title:** Forward Fast  
**Characters:** Rin. Kakashi. Hints of Kakashi/Rin.  
**Rating:** K+  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto.  
**Warnings: **Spoilers up to the Kakashi Gaiden Arc.  
**Summary:** (Oneshot. Spoilers. Hints of Kakashi/Rin.) One year was a long time. Enough time to not notice anything had moved but still enough time to change the world.

* * *

**Forward Fast **

* * *

Her eyes almost started watering. 

There were so many dead.

It was weeks after the Kyuubi attack and she still could hardly believe the numbers, the statistics. And it was a hard concept to grasp, even with all her training, to accept that neighbors she had been familiar with before were now never coming back. She was tempted to request leave from her superiors at the hospital. But able people were stretched so thin lately that she knew it would have been a waste of paper, a waste of breath. So she didn't ask and continued to go through the motions of her duties.

The halls of the hospital were disturbingly empty. Beds that were usually filled with incoming ANBU hardly ever saw any usage. The ANBU were the hardest working division in all of Konoha during its peaceful era; now that they had lost at least a quarter of its members, no one left standing received a rest break. Her former teammate, Kakashi, had been absent since the orders to keep Konoha running ragged had gone through.

Documents regarding Kakashi were classified, almost to a staggering degree. She wasn't allowed to see what he was up to, but she wasn't stupid. She knew.

They were only teenagers. Kakashi still had a lot more to learn and somehow he figured the best way to learn was to throw himself into the most precarious of positions he could find. With the types of missions he was bound to be assigned to, a small medic pack wasn't going to help him much. Rin didn't understand his way of thinking. Not anymore, at least.

Experience was almost always an advantage and she feared Kakashi's age would be a nail in his coffin. She had never been this worried about him before, not even when she was dead sure they were going to die.

Rin wiped her hands on her apron and turned away from her patient. She gave a frazzled-looking nurse a cheerful grin, intent on putting on a brave face for those around her. _It is important to keep those around you motivated_, Obito had once told her. _When they see you smile, they'll know things are going to be better again. _

She held the advice close to her heart, knowing that the last thing Obito would want was for her to be hopeless. But it was becoming increasingly hard to not be when the death toll climbed each week.

No one had thought getting to the funerals would take as long as it continued to be; then again, no one had anticipated the number deceased. Or if they had, it was a genius tactical movement to keep it under wraps.

Sensei had wanted his funeral to come last. It was the first serious "what-if" conversation she had ever had with her mentor before. He was the Yondaime Hokage, the strongest shinobi of the village. It was a difficult conversation to get through. Being a medical shinobi put her up against a lot of death—even those of people she knew previously and presently—but he had become such a fixture in her life that she never thought he would be knocked down. Rin respected the dead though and so did everyone else. So she knew that once everyone who had sacrificed their lives that day was buried and put to rest, his funeral would come. His body would be preserved until it came time to cremate him.

Days turned to weeks and Rin kept working, ignoring the urge to drop everything and crawl underneath her covers and cry. Then one day it was announced that, finally, the village had earned the right to mourn. Whether or not it was the right time to cry, Rin didn't question.

The Sandaime had given a eulogy that drew the entire population of Konoha; it had been a sea of black that day. The funeral was simple and tasteful; if a foreigner had seen it, the only thing that would have hinted at it being for anyone but a humble man was the long, loud coat hanging over the table. At least, that's what everyone told her it had looked like. Her eyes were too blurred by tears to get a good look at the set-up.

Kakashi had been beside her the entire time, fingers intertwined with hers almost painfully. She wasn't sure when he had returned home; just that one moment she was standing alone to one side and then the next, someone was gripping her hand like a vice. He made sure to stay by her side for the rest of the day; to say sorry for being gone for so long, sorry for not being able to protect her better. She wanted him to stop apologizing for everything that he couldn't control, like death and his inability to be on the same wavelength as her. Over dinner she almost blurted all that out, but he excused himself before she could tell him what was _really _on her mind.

Her life went on after that, as it should have, but a new weight had settled onto her shoulders and her hand still felt like it was being squeezed. She kept smiling, though, even when it felt like she couldn't be any more alone.

Friends were far and few in-between, considering her hectic work schedule—good medics were hard to come by all of a sudden—and the people she was closest to were dead or conveniently absent. Now, she wasn't unhappy with what she was doing with her life or how it appeared to be going. It was secure for the most part and she was good, a rising star.

She was young and talented, more capable than some people twice her age. She was grateful for all the opportunities given to her as of late, for more reasons than one. Her job as a medical shinobi was something that gave her direction that a lot of people her age were still trying to find.

But there was something inside of her being chipped away upon hearing all the compliments. Was being the head of her department really what she wanted? Handling paperwork instead of getting her hands dirty, wiping mud and blood on her cheeks because her apron was so covered with the stuff it wouldn't have mattered if she had wiped it anywhere else. Yes. Of course it was. It had been her dream ever since she had learned how to stitch a wound together with her fingertips.

But there was that niggling in the back of her head, telling her that sometimes dreams of little girls weren't the dreams of women.

At first it was easy to think that routine was going to patch her up. Her anxiety seemed to be crushed by the size of her smile, by the weight of her upbeat disposition, but it was starting to make her more frustrated than a fight between Obito and Kakashi.

Back when they were still around to fight, that is.

Thoughts like that plagued her now, more so now than they ever had. Obito, Kakashi, sensei; the things they used to do, the things she wishes they had and the things they never will. She'd shake it off and ask the nearest nurse if she could please add another patient to her roster. Overwork had helped because she never had to go to an empty home. Styrofoam coffee cups and late-night TV dramas kept her busy during her breaks.

Life had a funny way of moving along while you stood absolutely still. So it was a little surprising, but not really, that an expanse of time passed by without her really taking notice. A cupcake from her favorite Head Nurse told her it was her birthday. Almost one year had flown by, she realized, licking off the icing, staring up at the TV screen. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders then.

She thought she had officially reset herself.

But then a medic-in-training botched a simple procedure and she found herself thrown back into a time where she just didn't know what to do. It was an evening filled with _Who the hell forgot to check his wristband? _and a long, sweaty procedure to keep an innocent old man from dying because he had come in sick from the flu.

Thankfully no one had died that day, but she found herself _thinking _again, flexing her hand, wondering when or _if _Kakashi would ever come back. That night she got a headache no amount of pills would alleviate. She was young and talented and being cooped up with all the medicine she could ever want was not what _she _wanted.

She volunteered for an outpost job the next day. There was plenty of backlash from the higher-up's at the hospital after she had submitted her leave form; almost enough to cancel her mission. Rin was smart, though, and she argued that it was only fair that she provide what they clearly thought she had.

Kakashi met her at the village gates before her team set out for _real _border duty. She was just about to sign her exit papers when a familiar hand tapped her on the shoulder. She almost wanted to ignore him, because it was in part _his _fault she was leaving and it was easier to leave without him hovering over her. He always popped up when she wanted him to see her the least.

"I heard you were leaving."

His interest in her departure made some of her headstrong attitude disintegrate. Her hand wavered before she pressed the pen to the paper and signed her name. She handed the paper to the chuunin at the post and turned around to face Kakashi. "I won't be back for a year or so."

"I missed your birthday," he said, almost sheepishly.

"What?" she blinked, then added lamely: "It's okay. I was… busy."

He hesitated, his exposed eyebrow titled down in just the slightest bit. It was his default frustrated look; he had become a great deal more extroverted since Obito had died, but he still had a long way to go when it came to social interaction.

He reached into his back pocket and produced a shiny hairclip. It looked pathetic in the middle of his palm. "You always complained that your headband didn't keep your hair back."

She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking, and then gave him a bright smile. "Keep it as a welcoming gift."

He pressed it towards her and said, "I'll lose it."

"You wouldn't," she took it with a smile, though, and tucked it into her pouch. It would have been silly to put such a pretty clip into her hair when she was working. Kakashi knew that and so did she. The reasons behind him giving her a present, forcing it, was once again another wordless apology. Maybe Kakashi didn't know this, but Rin did.

She felt restless energy rolling off of his shoulders. Goodbyes were always hard when a person wasn't sure they'd ever see you again. As much as he attempted to remain unattached, Kakashi was the master of carrying a torch for another person. He looked to be debating on how to exit their conversation as quickly, but as politely, as possible. And as much as she wanted to hug him, public displays like that always put Kakashi on edge. She would miss him, sure, but she wasn't _that _selfish.

"I'll see you in a year," she said brightly.

"Rin," he said, taking a loose hold on her elbow.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Kakashi let go of her and looked away. "On second thought, maybe I _should _keep the pin."

She opened her mouth a fraction before laughing lightly, "Don't forget the welcoming parade, okay?"

"I won't."

They stood facing each other awkwardly for a few moments. Then, to her surprise, Kakashi pulled her into an equally awkward one-armed hug. He was bony and tall, but deceptively wiry for someone his size. It only took her a moment to realize all this and hoped he hadn't noticed. Although the hug only lasted for a second or two, it felt much longer. When he pulled away and stepped back, she wondered if she had made the right choice in leaving.

She handed him the clip. "To keep you company while I'm away. Don't be greedy with it when I get back."

"No promises."

Maybe seeing her leave had made him reorder his priorities. Maybe he realized that they were the only ones leftover from a legacy, that they needed to keep together to set things right again.

But she knew that he was going to walk away without her, regardless of whether or not she was physically at his side. He was just that way. It had _always_ been that way and she didn't think anything would change that. He had promised once to protect her, but she had never expected him to follow through when he couldn't even protect himself.

One year was a long time. Enough time to not notice anything had moved but still enough time to change the world.

She hoped it was enough time to change the both of them for the better.

* * *

END. 

Special thanks to blakkmollie.


End file.
